Glee: Misfits Edition
by Insert Clever Alias Here
Summary: This isn't exactly a crossover, because there's only Glee characters, but it's Glee and the UK television show Misfits. Ever wonder what would happen if the Glee kids all got weird superpowers from a freak storm? Faberrittana, Tike, possibly more...
1. Prologue: How They Got Their Powers

Prologue

How They Got Their Powers

The sun was shining brightly over the town of Lima, Ohio on the Saturday afternoon in April that our story begins. 12 young friends, some spending time together, others not, were all outside when the storm struck. Another thing these teens shared in common was a lightning strike that wold forever change the courses of their futures.

We start with one of the 12, Noah Puckerman, known simply as "Puck" to most he knew, was working on the pool of one Ms. Littleton when the storm affected him. The middle-aged blonde woman he was working for had just popped into the house for some tea when the sky crackled above Puck. He glanced up, squinting as rain plopped onto his upturned cheeks. A deep rumble and some darkness later, large balls of ice were plummeting at high-speeds towards him.

"Oh shi-" he exclaimed as one exploded at his feet, causing him to throw his arms over his head in fear. He ducked and dodged, making a beeline for the house, where he could barely hear Ms. Littleton's high-pitched screams over the din. As soon as his hand grasped the metal railing of her deck however, he was rocketed backwards with a shocking force, landing hard on the grass behind him.

When Puck awoke, the sky was clearing, and the sounds of thunder had all but gone. Ms. Littleton was crouched over him, her fake-tanned bosom hanging out. Puck winced, rubbing his forehead as he tried to sit up.

"Oh, dear, are you all right?" Ms. Littleton cooed.

"Never been better," he grunted in response. Ms. Littleton backed off, giving him room to rise. He patted his palms down over him body. "Yep, everything's still in place," he finished, with a generous grab to his crotch. Ms. Littleton giggled, and swatted at his shoulder playfully, as Puck curled his lips flirtatiously in that Puck way of his, and nodded his chin at the woman before him, as he followed her into her home.

* * *

><p>At the same time as the events in Ms. Littleton's backyard occurred, two boys were tossing a football back and forth across town, on the field belonging to William McKinley High School. The taller of the two, named Finn, currently held the ball.<p>

"Hey, go long," he called to his partner. The blonde boy across from him began running, his head thrown over his shoulder to keep an eye on the ball as it approached him in the sky. As he looked up however, the boy, named Sam, slowed his run and eventually stopped completely, the ball landing untouched some 10 yards ahead of his resting place.

"Hey, man, what gives?" Finn called. "That was a good throw!"

Sam, without taking his eyes off the sky, silently pointed upwards. Finn didn't react at first, then, realizing he was meant to direct his gaze upward, obliged. His mouth hung open as he squinted at the storm gathering above him.

"I think we should head inside," Sam said.

"Scared of a little rain?" Finn teased playfully.

"No," Sam replied, making eye contact.

A split-second after he did so, the sky opened up with a bang, hard-packed balls of ice hurtling towards Earth. One shattered directly in front of Finn. He jumped and squealed away from the offending object as another landed hard right behind him. He entered into a sort of frenzied dance as the monstrous hail attacked him from all sides. He felt a warm hand grip his forearm hard and he was yanked away, running alongside Sam towards cover beneath the bleachers. The Earth felt so loud as the two sprinted down the field, dodging ice ball after ice ball that was flung toward them.

As soon as the two passed under the goal posts, both were thrown onto their backs with a painful velocity that caused both boys to black out.

Finn's first awareness was a pounding in his head and an ache in his backside. He sat up slowly and glanced to his right; Sam was sprawled some 5 feet away, still unconscious but breathing steadily. Finn crawled to his friend's side and shook him awake.

"Dude, are you okay?"

Sam glanced around, disoriented. "What happened?"

"I-I have no idea," Finn stammered. "There was a storm, do you remember?"

Finn watched the realization dawn on Sam's face. "We were hit by lightning."

"What?"

"What if we get superpowers," Sam whispered excitedly.

"Dude, you're not making any sense."

Sam glanced at Finn, his expression guarded. "N-nevermind. We should probably go home."

Finn paused, watching his friend, concern written all over his features. "Okay," he nodded.

* * *

><p>5 of the friends were out together at a nearby strip mall, sipping smoothies and idly chatting about TV shows, celebrities, and other things that typical show choir teens talk about.<p>

Mercedes and her friends Tina and Kurt were trying on sunglasses at a small cart under a tree, while Mike and Artie sat nearby at a fountain, chatting amiably.

"Oh my God, you have _got_ to get those ones," Mercedes giggled as Tina slipped on a pair of hot pink sunglasses with gold glitter on the sides.

Kurt gasped in horror as he saw what the girl beside him was wearing, "Lord, no. You will remove those this instant."

"I'm just trying them on for fun!" Tina protested, a smile on her face.

"Mm-mm, no." Kurt shook his head, his lips pursed as he plucked them from her face, placing them back on the empty space on the rack.

The girls were about to protest but were cut off by a loud clap of thunder that rattled the plastic frames of the glasses around them. The entire mall seemed to freeze and turn their collective attention skyward, deciding if it was time to cut their shopping trip short.

"Should we go inside?" Tina asked.

"I'm sure it'll be fine for a little bit lon-" But Mercedes didn't get to finish her sentence, as another loud thunderclap rumbled through the sky, this time sending an immediate spray of large hail towards the mall.

"Run!" Kurt shouted, his eyes wide.

"Wait! Where are Mike and Artie?" Tina cried frantically, shielding her head with her arms as her neck whipped back and forth searching for the two boys.

"They probably went inside! Like we should!" Mercedes shouted at her, tugging at her lifted elbow.

"No!" Tina wrenched her arm free and darted towards the fountain, where she'd last known them to be.

"Tina!" Mercedes and Kurt shouted simultaneously, bolting after her.

Meanwhile, Mike and Artie were 30 yards down the strip, where they'd gone to discard their empty Jamba Juice cups when the storm hit. The boys were racing back to the sunglass cart where they'd left their friends, Artie's arms above his head, Mike running full speed pushing his companion's chair in front of him.

The two groups continued running full out towards each other, neither knowing where the other could be. Reaching another tree just past the fountain, they almost connected, just as they were thrown backwards with a force only something very strong could produce. Upon landing on the pavement, all 5 were knocked unconscious.

Mercedes awoke with the frantic realization that she couldn't breathe. Panicked, she clawed at her face, connecting with something heavy and warm. She grabbed and pulled with all her might, the object groaning and sliding off. With breathing also came the knowledge that it was still daytime, the area illuminated around her. She looked down to the offending blockade, a just-now-regaining-consciousness Kurt, curled up on the ground where she'd shoved him.

She sat up and glanced around. The mall appeared deserted. With an exasperated sigh she came to the conclusion that everyone else had been smart enough to take cover.

"Wha- happen'?" Kurt mumbled, cross-eyed and completely dazed. Mercedes couldn't help but smile at her friend.

Tina, Mike and Artie were stirring now too, and Mercedes hastened over to help lift Artie and his chair back upright again.

"You guys okay?" she asked. She noticed a slight tremor to her voice.

Mike patted his chest with his palms, surveying for damage. "I'm good."

"All clear," Artie replied.

Kurt straightened his clothes and glanced around, as if he was personally offended someone might have seen him looking rumpled. "I suppose I'm alright."

"I'm okay," Tina answered quietly, scooting towards Mike.

The group remained silent for a moment, staring up at the sky.

"Well, that was weird," Mercedes whispered.

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry knew flowers. Their meanings, proper care techniques...when Rachel did something, she did it perfectly with 110% effort, or not at all. So when her dads bought her some seeds for her ninth birthday (Hiram and Leroy Berry thought it might be good to teach their over-ambitious daughter a lesson in patience) Rachel Berry researched any and every flower to an extreme.<p>

The day of the storm found Rachel sitting peacefully in her little backyard garden, singing to her flowers. Almost everything she found on growing healthy plants said singing to them was beneficial. It was almost too perfect.

Rachel was kneeling in the soil, a soft melody falling gracefully from her mouth, when she heard the first bang of thunder.

"Oh no," she exclaimed quietly. Frantically, she searched for anything to protect her precious garden from the impending storm. She ran out of time however, as the mutant hail began to fall like bombs to the Earth. Desperation seized her and she threw her tiny body out onto all fours to attempt to protect her precious garden at all costs. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the hail to land anywhere but her vulnerable back and her flowers.

She was granted her wish, however, the sky found a loophole in her request. A bolt of lightning shot down just then, launching her forward into a flip where she landed with a dull thwump on the grass adjacent to her garden. Rachel's eyelids fluttered, catching a final glimpse at the almost apocalypse above her before she slipped into unconsciousness.

Upon waking, Rachel shot up immediately and crawled to her garden. A defeated sob escaped her throat as she saw the damage that had been done. The portion she'd been able to shield fared pretty well, considering. However, the rest of her hard work had been decimated.

Heartbroken, she rushed back into her house, not even really processing that she'd just survived being hit by lightning.

* * *

><p>"Santana! Watch me!" Brittany called from the top of the slide, waving her arm wildly at the girl below on the bench.<p>

"I see you, Britt!" Santana called back amiably. She continued her conversation with the girl beside her without taking her eyes off the blonde going down the slide.

"Whee!" Brittany squealed before landing on her backside at the end of the slide, cutting her off. She sat dazed for a moment before standing and rubbing her sore tailbone.

"You gotta put her feet out, Britt, remember?" Santana yelled patiently, while Quinn giggled beside her. "Don't laugh," she snapped at Quinn, who shook her head and sighed.

"She's not hurt," Quinn commented.

Santana simply glared.

Brittany had already recovered and clambered back up to the top of the slide. She began talking to a small child who was up there also.

"You're so patient with her," Quinn smiled knowingly.

Santana just pouted, not meeting her eye. "Yeah, so?"

"Nothing," she replied, her smile only growing.

Thunder rumbled above and both girls looked up.

"We should probably get going soon, that looks pretty nasty," Quinn said.

"Yeah," Santana nodded, then, "Britt! Time to go, come on!"

"No, I don't wanna go home yet," Brittany answered.

"There's a storm coming, we need to leave!"

Brittany turned around, ignoring her friend and began to spin a plastic toy that was a part of the play structure. "Brittany!" Santana shouted again.

Brittany turned to respond but her answer was drowned out by a second clap of thunder, this one bringing large balls of ice with it.

"Hey!" She shouted angrily. "Who threw this snowball at me?"

"No one! Brittany, it's April, that's not snow, it's hail!" Quinn yelled.

"Let's see how you like it, Q!" Brittany shouted back, a devious smile on her face. She gathered the slush from the exploded hail beside her and launched it at the girls below.

Quinn screamed as the makeshift snowball connected, hitting her hard in the thigh. "I'm finding cover, you deal with her!" She shouted to Santana over the din as she bolted for the trees, 30 yards away.

Santana stomped her foot exasperatedly as she watched Quinn's retreating form dash towards the tree line. "Brittany! You need to get down, now!"

"Your turn, San!" Brittany shouted gleefully as she launched another hail-ball at her friend below her. Santana jumped out of the way, her patience finally broken.

"That's it!" She shouted, running for the ladder to the play structure. Brittany squealed happily as she gathered more slush to assail her friend with.

Just as Santana breached the top of the slide, she was shot backward with a heavy force, landing in the bark chips below.

The lightning blew Brittany down the slide and into the bark chips, reinforcing her previous tailbone bruise.

Quinn hadn't quite reached the trees and was catapulted directly into the trunk of the one closest to her- a good 10 yards away.

Brittany was the first of the trio to wake, having had the softest fall. She sat up, dazed. She glanced around until she saw Santana, still unconscious on the other side of the play structure. "Santana?" she ventured quietly.

No response.

Brittany began to panic. She glanced around, panicked, searching for any sign of her other friend. "Quinn?" she tried.

No response.

She crawled swiftly to Santana's side and gently shook her shoulder. "Wake up. Wake up! I'm sorry I attacked you. I wanna go home now," she whispered.

At the stimulus, Santana stirred. Brittany's face lit up, as she lifted the girl's upper body into her arms. "You're not dead! I thought my ice-balls killed you!"

Santana coughed. "You never hit me, Britt."

"We gotta find Quinn."

Underneath a tree, Quinn opened her eyes. She squinted at the foliage above her, confused. She attempted to sit up but fell back with a cry of pain as her head throbbed so powerfully she was temporarily blinded. She reached a hand up to gingerly feel the egg-shaped lump that was quickly forming on her crown. "Ow," she whispered.

"Quinn!" Santana cried. Soon both girls entered Quinn's line of vision. They hovered over her, worry across their faces. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry my ice-ball skills are so deadly," Brittany deadpanned.

Quinn winced as she tried to sit up again, this time with her friends aid. "I think I hit my head."

"Yeah, you got a nasty lump up there," Santana jeered good-naturedly.

"We should probably try to get home. I might have a concussion," Quinn observed as the two girls helped her to her feet.

As the trio departed the park, they all looked skyward once more. All traces of the freak storm had vanished. Save for the lump on Quinn's head and the throbbing in the other girls' backsides, it was almost like nothing had happened at all.

Or was it?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey all! This is just the prologue to something I'm hoping to continue. I've already planned out what everyone's powers **

**will be. Also, this is obviously AU, so some things will be different besides the obvious having powers thing. Depending on how  
><strong>

**much response this gets, I'll decide whether or not to pursue it. Also, if there's anyone who hasn't seen the show Misfits, I highly**

**recommend it! You can find it on hulu.**

**Reviews and any comments are extremely welcome, and always read. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 1 Part 1

Chapter 1

How They Find Out Their Powers Pt. 1

The day after the storm, Santana woke with a start. Had it all been a dream? A really bizarre, painful dream? She glanced around the familiar sight of her bedroom and released a soft sigh of relief. Perhaps it was.

Stepping out of her hot shower, she caught a glimpse of her backside in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. An ugly purple bruise had sprung up where she'd landed after being launched off the play structure. _No._ She stopped herself. _It's not possible to survive a lightning strike with nothing but a bruise on my ass to show for it. _She hastily dressed and exited the bathroom to have breakfast.

"Yeah! Ah! Shit, no!" She was greeted by the welcoming tones of her little brother's video game commentary as he button-mashed from the living room couch.

"Better not let Mom hear you talking like that," she muttered.

"I didn't say anything," he snapped back.

"Are you calling me a liar?" she challenged.

"No. I dunno. Shut up, you're gonna get me killed."

For a few moments, she weighed the options of beating up her brother or eating; Santana opted for the food. She'd get him some other time. As she turned away however, she heard one more thing leave young Carlos' mouth.

"Stupid bitch."

"That's it!" she shouted.

"Wuhh?" Came the startled squeal from Carlos, who had dropped the controller as soon as Santana had shoved him over forwards. He lay in a ball of confusion in front of the sofa he'd just fallen off, a canned-man's cry emitting from the television screen as he "died." Santana stood breathing heavily at the back of the couch from where she'd shoved him, grabbing the back of his skull and bodily heaving him forward. Which resulted in a very ungraceful fall, as he was sitting cross-legged.

"If you're try'na start shit, say it to my face," her voice bobbed its pitch along with her head as she menaced above him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he cried, still on the floor. He glanced up at the screen. "My record!" he squeaked in dismay.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Nobody calls Santana Lopez a 'stupid bitch' and doesn't get the smackdown laid on 'em."

"I didn't call you a 'stupid bitch,'" he whined, his 13 year old voice cracking when emotional.

"And now you're lying? Really? Great, all the awards for your acting, by the way," she spat.

"Santana. I'm serious. I-I didn't say that," he trailed off, not meeting her eye.

Santana squinted at her brother suspiciously. "You didn't say it but..."

Something crossed his face for a fraction of a second, too quick for Santana to read, before his eyes flashed angrily at her. "But nothing. I'm gonna tell Mom you shoved me."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna tell her what pretty words were comin' outta your mouth."

"I didn't say any of that stuff," he mumbled.

The two held each others' gaze for a few beats before, "Fine. Whatever, I'm hungry. We got any bagels?"

And with that, the argument was over.

* * *

><p>Monday morning, Kurt rose at his usual early time to start his prep work for the day. Shower, hair, morning moisturize, the whole nine yards. As he headed up the stairs to get his clothes from the laundry room, he heard his father calling from the living room.<p>

"Hey, Kurt? Washer's broken, so the clothes you put on last night didn't get cleaned."

"What?"

Burt looked up from his cereal. Bran had replaced delicious fried eggs since the heart attack. "I said-"

"I heard what you said," Kurt snapped, impatient. He glanced around nervously, standing only in a towel. "What am I going to wear?" he mumbled to himself.

"Sorry, bud. Might just have to wear what you wore yesterday."

Kurt looked like he'd been slapped. "I-" he opened his mouth 3 times to speak only to close it again and again, flapping his lips like a fish out of water. Burt watched him intently. "Ugh, nevermind," he waved his hand impatiently and strode back downstairs to find something to wear. This next project would take fashion skills reminiscent of MacGyver; he hoped he was up to the task.

He stood over his bed staring at his sheets, towel clutched around his waist. He bit his lower lip. _Think, Hummel._ He pawed desperately at his blankets, _I need something to wear._

As soon as the words passed through his mind, the fabric in his hand began to change. He stood, transfixed, as his bed sheets slowly shrunk, separated, and shaped themselves into an entire outfit, even changing to coordinating colors. Kurt's eyes bulged and he yelped in shock as his mind and body finally caught up to each other. He dropped the blanket that he was holding (it was now the corner of a vest) and the fabric quit transforming. He stood panting, watching the partially-formed outfit laying still and innocent on his mattress. Perplexed, he touched the tip of his index finger to the vest. But nothing happened.

He tried again. _I need something to wear, _he thought. Like magic, the clothes resumed their formation. He watched, wide-eyed and disbelieving as he created material art without even trying. A few moments passed, and the fabric quit moving, the outfit complete.

He picked up the vest gingerly, as though it were covered in something very dirty, and examined it closely. 100% wool, he deduced. This outfit was quality, but he expected nothing less from something Kurt Hummel produced. He cocked his head, grinning. _Just go with it, _he thought. It wasn't like he was in a place to be picky- it was either wear the magic, possibly not real clothes, re-wear an outfit (he shuddered at the thought), or go to school in his towel, and he certainly wasn't going to do _that._

He quickly dressed, made a pit-stop at his vanity to straighten himself out, and hustled up the stairs to get to school.

* * *

><p>Sam was missing first period today. He was slouched in a plastic chair outside Figgins' office, waiting for his appointment. He was in danger of failing English class- typical. He just took longer to do the homework on account of his dyslexia, but he got it done. He scowled at the floor, bored out of his mind. This wasn't fair.<p>

Suddenly the door to Figgins' office burst open and a couple strode out, closely followed by Figgins' who appeared overwhelmed and impatient. The woman was speaking slowly and enunciating her words, talking to Figgins' as if he didn't speak her language. Which...was probably true, on account of the fact she wasn't speaking English. Figgins' sighed.

"Mrs. Amdahl, I'm sorry, I can't understand you. I'm—I'm very sorry," he was having difficulty getting a word in over the woman's attempts to communicate.

"She said she doesn't understand why her daughter is failing geometry and that she tried talking to her teacher, but that didn't work either, and since you don't appear to have anyone in this school who can speak Norwegian, can you call her daughter out of class to translate," Sam drawled with a sigh.

The group froze, watching the boy who hadn't lifted his gaze from the floor once. "Mr. Evans, I wasn't aware you spoke Norwegian," Principal Figgins stated after a lengthy pause.

Sam looked up, the slightest hint of fear in his green eyes. "I don't."

* * *

><p>Finn was falling asleep. He'd much rather be in Glee club or out on the field than sitting here in history class, listening to Ms. Blotts drone on and on about the Industrial Evolution or whatever. <em>Evolution. Maybe that's when aliens landed on Earth. War of the Worlds was a cool movie. People say Tom Cruise is crazy, but I think he's a pretty good actor and-<em>

"Mr. Hudson? Perhaps _you_know the answer?" Ms. Blotts smiled condescendingly in his direction, as if she knew the answer to her own question.

"Most of the first factories were cotton factories," Finn heard himself say. Ms. Blotts and Finn stared at each other, flabbergasted that he'd given any answer at all, not to mention one that even related to the subject and was, well, correct enough, despite being vague.

"...Yes, very good. I suppose you were paying attention," Ms. Blotts conceded before returning to her lecture. Finn caught his friend Puck's eye, who gave him an approving nod. _Nice_, he mouthed. Finn returned the nod with a half-smirk, still not over the shock of getting a right answer. Had he even heard the question?

* * *

><p>The end of the day found the kids in the choir room for another round of Glee club. As per usual, Rachel Berry was running the joint.<p>

"I've prepared my song for this week's assignment, Mr. Shue, if I may," and she rose to the center of the floor, not waiting for his permission.

"Uh..s-sure, Rachel, go ahead," he gestured to where she was already standing. "Let's give Rachel our attention, everybody." He nodded to her to begin.

Rachel smiled wide at her audience before launching into her song, Brad and the band accompanying behind her. The kids in front of her immediately recognized the tune as it began, drumming their fingers and bouncing their feet along with the beat, ready to jump in for any back up vocals when needed.

_I'm thinking it's a sign  
><em>

_That the freckles in our eyes_

_Are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned_

As Rachel sang the lyrics, strange things began to happen. In mid-air appeared a large eyeball, spattered with freckles, and beside it another, a mirror image. The eyes came together and disappeared with a high-pitched pop, vanishing as if they'd never existed at all. The kids stopped wiggling along with the song and watched wide-eyed as other apparitions took shape around the singing girl. Rachel, being Rachel, hadn't noticed the objects yet due to singing with her eyes closed.

Puck ground his fists roughly into his eyes and blinked rapidly as he watched blobby, clay jigsaw puzzle pieces appear and fit perfectly together beside Rachel, as she continued to sing, oblivious to the psychedelic effects her voice seemed to be causing. As she reached the chorus, a deep rumbling sounded as the ground beneath her erupted, creating a "great height" where there once was none. The sudden action caused her to falter and open her eyes. Upon seeing she was now about 20 feet in the air balanced precariously on a crumbling pillar, she screamed. Flailing her arms, she shouted for help to the kids below who sat staring, dumbfounded at the events unfolding before them.

A few moments of no singing passed and the pillar began to rapidly sink back down from whence it came. Rachel bent and clutched the edge of it for support as it, and she, raced back towards the ground, finally slamming into it and appearing as though no destruction had ever taken place. Rachel was thrown backwards where she now sat, paralyzed with shock and sprawled vulnerably in front of her audience. A few extremely loaded silences passed before she rose, covered her face and rushed from the choir room, leaving the onlookers stunned and confused.

A pause. "Someone should go after her," Quinn mumbled.

Silence.

"Well, don't all get up at once," she sighed impatiently and began to rise.

"I'll come with you," Santana said, glancing around furtively. Quinn made eye contact, nodded, and strode out the door after Rachel, Santana quickly following in her path.

Kurt gulped. What an interesting day this has been.

* * *

><p>Quinn and Santana darted to the nearest girls' bathroom where they were sure they'd find Rachel. And, sure enough, they heard quiet sniffles coming from the stall farthest from the door.<p>

"Rachel?" Quinn called gently.

The sniffling stopped. "Go away," came the muffled reply.

"Rachel, it's okay, we just wanna see how you're doing," Quinn assured.

"How do you think I'm doing?" she exited the stall, wiping her eyes and nose on a piece of toilet paper. "What if I can never sing again? And since when do you care how I'm doing?"

Quinn flinched at her words and fell silent.

"Hey, Berry. I-I just wanted to say that," Santana glanced sideways at Quinn, who was staring doggedly at an apparently very interesting wall tile. "I just wanted to say that...something weird is happening to me too," her voice fell to a loud whisper and she glanced under the stalls for signs of feet.

Rachel stopped crying and looked up. "Like what?"

Santana paused. "I think I can hear...what people are thinking," she finished, not making eye contact.

Rachel bobbed her head back slightly, disbelieving. "Prove it."

Santana glared at being ordered to do anything by Rachel Berry, but obliged nonetheless. She cocked her head at Quinn. "You hurt her feelings."

Quinn whipped her face around, "No she didn't," an unprepared lie falling obviously from her lips.

"Yeah, you did," Santana spoke to Rachel. "It's kind of sickening to have to listen to her fawn over you and it's only been one day of Glee."

Quinn's eyes flashed dangerously, but looked away to hide the furious blush that was creeping into her face. "She's lying," she mumbled unconvincingly.

"Sure I am, whatever," Santana rolled her eyes, and Rachel smiled despite herself.

"Okay then...what am I thinking?" Rachel asked, grinning.

Santana held her eye contact for a beat. "You're flattered," she deadpanned, feeling Quinn twitch minutely beside her.

Rachel smiled, looking at Quinn. "Alright Santana, I believe you. And...thanks for coming after me. Both of you," she smiled genuinely at the girls in front of her.

"Yeah, well," Santana shrugged nonchalantly, Quinn still not willing to lift her gaze higher than her knees. "I guess Q doesn't like to see you sad or whatever,"

"Santana," Quinn hissed.

Santana ignored her, "and I just...I guess I was glad someone else had something weird happen to them. I mean," she fumbled, "not _glad _but-"

"It's okay," Rachel cut her off, smiling bashfully on account of Quinn. "I understand."

Santana nodded. "Right. I'll leave you two gaywads alone then." She spun on her heel and started for the door.

"No! Wait! Santana!" Quinn glanced back quickly at Rachel, catching her eye briefly before gripping Santana's elbow and departing with her.

Left alone in the bathroom, Rachel stood watching the door swing shut behind the two girls. Smiling to herself, she washed off her face, and followed them back to the choir room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey all! Thanks for reading! I've written part 2 of this chapter already, but I might tweak it a little bit because I'm not **

**entirely happy with it...  
><strong>

**This chapter's bathroom scene especially was such fun to write! I think in the future, I may have any thoughts that Santana **

**hears bolded or italicized, just so as not to confuse anyone. She's learning to tell what's a thought and what's been spoken.  
><strong>

**Also, what do you all think of everyone's powers so far? I tried to do something based somewhat on their personalities, like in **

**Misfits. After I post the next part, I'll list everyone's powers in the a/n section.  
><strong>

**Reviews and comments are extremely appreciated! **


	3. Chapter 1 Part 2

Chapter 2  
>How They Find Out Their Powers Pt. 2<p>

Upon re-entering the choir room, Rachel saw that Quinn and Santana had already taken their seats and everyone was chatting quietly amongst themselves. Except Mr. Schue, who was kind of gaping stupidly at the place where Rachel had...well, where Rachel had just "performed." Santana greeted her with a tight but friendly smile, which she returned as she took a seat beside her. She chanced a glance at Quinn who was found to be already staring at her. Quinn looked away quickly when she was caught, but darted her eyes back over anyway. A faint rosy tint colored her cheeks, and the corners of her lips twitched infinitesimally. Rachel grinned back at her.

A lull in the babbling came about and the room became quiet again. "Sooo..." Mercedes raised her eyebrows at Schuester.

"Uh...right!" he shook his head and looked back at his class, a fake smile on his anxious face. "What do we...does anyone else have a song prepared for last week's assignment?"

Mercedes glanced at the extremely eager (not) kids around her and rolled her eyes. "I'll go, Mr. Schue." She rose and took her place on the floor, her arm resting comfortably on the piano behind her.

"Great, Mercedes, let's hear it," Schue encouraged.

Mercedes launched into a Mariah Carey number, the Glee kids bobbing along soulfully with the R&B beat, providing back up vocals in perfect harmonies as always. After the debacle that was Rachel's solo, the kids seemed to have recovered remarkably and were just getting back into the swing of things when...

Mercedes lifted her chin to hit the highest note of the song, her mouth open wide as she powered through it. She was completely oblivious to the fact that the music had stopped, or that her audience were now covering their ears and cringing. The back row ducked and screamed as the windows above them shattered and glass shards rained down upon them. At the sound of the glass breaking, Mercedes abruptly dropped the note and glared confusedly at her audience, who were still insensitively covering their ears. Tina had even begun crying a little as Mike gingerly picked glass out of her hair.

With an indignant huff, Mercedes placed her hands on her hips. She met Rachel's eye in the front row. The girl was still doubled over, covering her ears, but she nodded to her, pain and understanding in her eyes. Mercedes deflated and reclaimed her seat, now in a state of shocked silence, an unpleasant feeling of despair settling over her. Whatever weirdness was affecting Rachel...was affecting her too.

* * *

><p>After quite possibly the most uncomfortable day of Glee club yet, Noah Puckerman wanted nothing more than to just go home, watch some football, and have a beer before his mom got home from work. He waved goodbye to his posse as he unlocked his truck, tossing his backpack into the passenger seat and swinging gracefully into the vehicle. Just as he was starting up the car, he felt his phone alert him to a text message. Upon reading its contents, he sighed tiredly and resigned himself to his fate: picking up his younger sister from after-school daycare.<p>

It really was too bad. He'd really been looking forward to that beer.

He pulled up to the small yellow building and punched in the code on the door, which he knew by heart. He'd had to pick up his younger sister Jasmine many times, so it's not like his mother's request had taken him by surprise. He was just...hoping he wouldn't have to _today._

"Hello, Noah!" A slightly elderly woman with streaks of gray through her dark hair approached him. She wore loose shawls and thick wooden beads, and Puck felt like she was the type of woman who shopped at stores devoted entirely to scented candles.

"Hey, Ms. Silverton," he greeted her with his trademark charming-Puck smile.

"Are you here for Jasmine?"

"Oh!" he thunked his fist to his forehead. "I suppose I could pick her up while I'm here. I just wanted to see your lovely face again."

She smiled bashfully. "Oh, stop it! I'll go get her, then." As soon as she turned away, Puck's smile sagged into a grimace. His mother demanded he be kind to this woman (for whatever reason) and so...he was. In his own way.

As Puck stood waiting by the door, he heard a baby's cry down the hall. Then another. And another, and another until there was a symphony of wails emitting from seemingly everywhere. His brow furrowed in concern; he made for the nearest room full of sobs to see if he could assist in any way.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, an eery silence descended on the room. Every infant eye was trained upon him and he stood, never feeling more exposed or vulnerable in his life. A tense moment passed as the army of babies and Puck stared each other down; their eyes full of something like wonder, his...mainly just fear. Puck loved babies, but this was downright creepy.

Puck cleared his throat to speak; it was like a spell had been broken. The babies were suddenly laughing and smiling, shrieking with pleasure. Worst of all, they were advancing on him. Fast. They clambered over each other as they all raced to get to him the quickest.

"What the-?" Puck started as the first infant reached him, tugging at his pant leg.

"Up!" she screamed, pure unadulterated joy in her big blue eyes.

"Uh..oh-okay," he stammered, lifting the child into his arms. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck, burrowing into his shoulder. More babies were reaching his feet and also demanding "up." Puck shifted uneasily, trying not to step on them as he attempted to dislodge the infants from his pant leg.

"Um...I-I gotta put you down now," he told the girl in his arms as he attempted to peel the child off.

"No!" she shouted, gripping tighter.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Noah? What're you doing?" A girl of about 10 was now standing behind him, dark hair that flowed to her mid-back, a quizzical yet bemused look in her chocolate eyes. It was easy to tell Jasmine Puckerman and her brother were related.

"Jasmine! I- Can you? I need- help?" he flailed.

Jasmine giggled exasperatedly. "What's the magic word?"

"Please?" he begged.

"Okay, babies, let's go!" Jasmine clapped her hands, authority and purpose in her voice. The babies ignored her. She appeared taken aback. "That's odd, they usually listen to me."

"Try harder?" her brother pleaded, finally managing to remove the infant from his neck. As soon as he set her down, she rejoined the throng that continued to assault his knees.

"Well..." Jasmine sighed. "Ms. Silverton!" she called down the hall. The woman came rushing in a moment later.

"Oh goodness! Children!" she glanced over her shoulder sideways at Puck, "My, oh my, Mr. Puckerman, you seem to have quite the effect on people," she winked flirtatiously at him.

Puck forced a chuckle.

She managed to corral the infants (with Jasmine's help) behind a baby fence that was placed to prevent the children from leaving through the door. The babies stood wide-eyed at the fence, chubby fists gripping the bars, the occasional pudgy arm thrust through, groping to get closer to Puck. The three older people watched the spectacle with a mixture of amusement and fear (though the fear part was mostly just Puck).

"That certainly is...strange," Ms. Silverton commented, shaking her head.

Puck didn't answer. "Come on, Jasmine, let's go." He nudged his sister out the door in front of him, and with one last look at the babies, he exited the room. As soon as he left the eyesight of the children, the crying started back up again. He could barely hear Ms. Silverton's calming efforts over the impossible din. He hustled out, perplexed. He was beginning to feel suffocated in that place.

"That was weird," Jasmine commented after she'd strapped herself into the passenger seat. But then, "dibs on the TV," she grinned nonchalantly.

Puck sighed, staring out the windshield a few quiet pauses, before igniting the engine and heading for home.

* * *

><p>Artie found that one of the best ways to work out was to simply do laps in his chair. For his last birthday, he'd received a racing chair from his parents; it was an excellent upper-body workout. Today after school, he and Tina had headed out to the track so he could do some laps while she timed.<p>

"Ready?" Artie called.

"Ready when you are!" Tina flashed a thumbs-up sign and wiggled the stopwatch in her hand.

"Go!" he shouted and took off, Tina pressing the start button on her timer. She watched him furiously pump down the track and smiled.

Artie was rounding the first turn when his breathing began to become labored. He powered through, though. He had to keep going. Despite the weird tingling in his hands and the way his vision was beginning to change, he had to keep—wait.

Tina watched from afar as her friend kind of, sort of...exploded. She gasped in horror and disbelief when where there had been Artie, there was now a very fast, very expensive looking sports car, barreling down the opposite side of the track.

"What on Earth?" she whispered, squinting to get a closer look. As soon as she did however, she cried out and clenched her eyes shut. When Tina had squinted, her eyes had acted as if they were a telescope, zooming in until it was almost as if the Artie-car were directly in front of her. She cautiously opened her lids again, just as her friend screeched and spun, dirt and bits of grass and track flying all around his back wheels. He finally finished his skid and came to a halt, smoke billowing out from under him.

She gingerly narrowed her eyes again. She trembled as she could now see the car up close, though she was still many yards away. A mechanical whir filled the air as the car folded out, then in, then popped in a cloud of smoke, leaving a very dazed looking Artie lying sedentary in his chair.

"Ah—Artie!" Tina called, racing towards him, stopwatch thumping uncomfortably against her sternum. Upon reaching him, she crouched and gripped his shoulders. "Are you alright?"

He stared right through her. "Peachy," he squeaked.

* * *

><p>Mike Chang and Brittany S. Pierce were inside the gym at McKinley high, practicing jumps and tumbles together, as they often did after both joined Glee club. They brought in a boombox containing a burned CD of their setlist for Sectionals, and were ready to begin choreographing routines.<p>

"So I was thinking maybe we could do backflips on this one during the chorus. What do you think?" Mike turned to face Brittany.

"Sure, we could try that."

"We just have to get the timing down," he nodded and pushed play. "I'll go first," he spoke over the music.

Brittany nodded and lowered herself down next to the boombox to watch her friend perform.

Mike took his place and braced himself, waiting for the chorus to begin. Upon hearing the first note, he launched himself back for a flip. Mike Chang had been doing backflips for years, and dancing for as long as he could remember. He knew his strength, exactly how much force he needed to use to complete a flip, everything. So it came as a shock when he used his normal amount of force and went rocketing sky high. Brittany watched in awe as he soared above her, flailing wildly and grunting fearfully. He came down down very awkwardly 20 feet past where he'd intended, and completely botched the landing.

"Here, Mike, I'll show you how it's done," Brittany flashed a cocky smile as her friend walked past, massaging his knees. "I have some ideas for the verse too."

"Okay," Mike replied, in shock.

Brittany waited patiently as he stared right through the floor. "Restart the music?"

"Huh? Oh, right." And he did.

Brittany began to dance, just as she always did: flawlessly. This time, however, something was different. Mike stared at her, completely transfixed, his jaw hanging slack and his eyes heavy-lidded. At first, Brittany didn't notice. "So what do you think so far?" she asked, still dancing.

"Whatever you want me to think," Mike replied, his voice hollow and robotic.

"Mike? Are you okay?" Brittany continued dancing, an amused smile splashed across her face.

"I am fine," Mike answered, still in that same robotic tone.

"Mike." Brittany said sternly, coming to a stop. As soon as her body quit moving, something turned on behind Mike's eyes.

"Whoa!" he shouted.

Brittany jumped at his sudden outburst. "You weren't paying attention to my dancing," she accused, hurt.

"I—I was. I couldn't look away, or move! Like I was...like I was trapped," he marveled, clearly in disturbed awe. "Almost like I was...hypnotized, or something," he met her eye, completely baffled.

They both watched each other for a long minute. "Something weird is going on, Mike."

"You can say that again," he agreed.

"...Something weird is going on, Mike."

* * *

><p>Somewhere across town in the Fabray household, Quinn lounged in her bed, hit replay on one of Rachel's myspace videos (again) and popped a chip into her mouth.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey everybody! Thanks for reading again! What do you think of everyone's powers so far? (All except Quinn, actually!)**

**Who's got your favorite power? Do all of them make sense? I plan on revealing Quinn's power sometime in the next chapter or  
>so, and after that, I'm not sure how much more I'll write. I'm starting school again soon, so I'll either wrap this up or put it on<strong>

**a hiatus. We'll see.**

**How are you all liking it so far? This was just a fun thing I thought of one day that I thought I'd write up so...reviews and**

**critiques are greatly appreciated. Even if it's just to say whether you liked it or not or simply ":)"**

**Thanks for reading! **


	4. Chapter 2: In Which They Eat Brunch

Chapter 2  
>In Which They Eat Brunch<p>

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" Rachel Berry tossed the chopped carrot into the bowl she was making a salad in.

"You're worrying," Santana crunched on a stalk of celery, creating a loud popping sound. "It's making me nervous."

Rachel huffed impatiently and threw her hands above her head. "I can't help it. This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have invited Quinn over for brunch today, this was a mistake!"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Does Brit need to dance for you?"

"I can help calm you down, Rachel," Brittany piped up from the kitchen table where she was doing a word-search. It had been over a month since the storm and the girls had discovered their supernatural powers. Since that fateful day, they'd been slowly learning how to control them and just what exactly they even did.

Rachel glanced at her, her vision going right through. It was clear her mind was elsewhere. She hesitated, then shook her head violently, squeezing her eyes shut as if attempting to physically force herself to the present.

"No, that's alright," she mumbled as she strode somewhat erratically to the fridge.

Santana took another loud bite of celery. "She's gonna be here soon," she droned lazily.

"Santana, that's not helping. You want me to stop worrying, that is _not_ helping."

"Yeah, yeah." She sat down next to Brittany and craned to look at the piece of paper her friend was working on.

Rachel continued to fret in the kitchen, squealing when the oven timer went off and scrambling to find the mitts. She became so frazzled, that when the doorbell calmly bonged around the house, she began to hyperventilate and had to sit down.

"Go on without me," she moaned to Santana.

"Ugh, Berry, grow a pair," Santana replied gruffly as she rose from the table to answer the door.

The door swung open to reveal a slightly nervous-looking Quinn, who appeared mildly taken aback at who answered the door.

"Is um..." she stammered. "Is Rachel there?"

"Barely," Santana answered her dryly.

Quinn simply looked at her quizzically as Santana stepped aside so her friend could enter. Just as Santana closed the door behind her, an over-peppy Rachel burst in from the kitchen.

"Welcome, Quinn!" She shouted, a terrifyingly bright smile on her face. Quinn jumped at the sudden loud noise and almost regretted not wearing sunglasses. "Feel free to walk around barefoot or pass gas in the living room! Just make yourself comfortable!"

Before either girl had time to react, Rachel scurried back into the kitchen, leaving both very confused and more than a little disturbed.

"Is...she okay?" Quinn asked.

"No," Santana said simply.

* * *

><p>"What is wrong with you?" Santana demanded in a sharp whisper. "Were you dropped on your head?"<p>

"I-I panicked. I don't know! I just want her to feel at home and I-"

"You told her to fart in the living room!" Santana hissed.

Rachel blanched, and a horrified expression grew over her face. She slapped her palms to her cheeks. "Oh God! You're right! What am I going to do?"

Santana sighed. After she'd told Brittany about the obvious but inexplicable feelings between these two, Brittany had demanded she play Gay Cupid with them. So now here she was spending her Saturday afternoon calming down the awkward advances of Rachel Berry. The girls experienced two very different forms of nervous. Quinn was sitting oddly quiet in the living room, being kept company by Brittany, while Rachel seemed to lose all sense of self-restraint and order.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and made eye contact with the panicking girl before her. "Okay, look. Getting Fabray to like you isn't what you need to worry about; that ship has sailed."

Rachel's body visibly relaxed as she began to breathe again.

"What you need to focus on is getting her to accept that." Santana's voice hollowed as it did when she was frightened; she hoped Berry didn't notice. It was a statement that hit a little close to home.

Rachel nodded with her whole body. "Okay great. And...how are we going to do this?"

"Just," Santana closed her eyes, bobbing her head confidently. "Follow my lead."

* * *

><p>The two girls exited the kitchen, carrying various dishes of vegan food between them. At their appearance, Quinn and Brittany looked up from the couch where they were sitting. They held a large photo album across both their laps; upon seeing it, Rachel's shoulders tensed up again.<p>

"Rachel, you were such a cute baby," Brittany commented as she stood up to help. "I've always thought babies looked like really small sumo wrestlers, but you weren't too scary."

Taken off-guard by Brittany's comment, Rachel's eyelids fluttered before she stuttered out, "Thank...you?"

Brittany nodded, smiling.

Quinn sat silently on the couch, alone now, as her gaze traveled back to the tome on her lap. She absentmindedly turned each large page as she studied the pictures for lengthy amounts of time.

"Q-Quinn?"

At the sound of Rachel saying her name, her eyes immediately snapped to attention.

"Would you like to come to the table?" Her fingers twitched nervously and Santana began to twirl her hair around her finger. All this tenseness between those two was making her really fidgety and on-edge.

"Y-yeah! I mean, sure, of course," Quinn stuttered ungracefully. As she strode over to the dining table, Rachel registered that Quinn was barefoot and embarrassment colored her cheeks.

As everyone sat down around the table, Santana made sure that the two targets were forced to sit across from each other. She knew from experience that she wouldn't have to force them to sneak looks at each other, but she wanted to make it easier nonetheless. Not to mention the possibility of feet "accidentally" bumping together beneath the table.

She relished on her first bite of salad. She chewed slowly as she observed her company. Brittany watched the two awkward friends with a proud smile on her face, as the two snuck peeks at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking.

"So," Santana wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Still no clue what your power is, Q?"

Quinn sighed and shrugged, not looking up from her food. "I honestly don't think I've got one."

"Hmm, lucky you." Santana grimaced slightly. It wasn't that she hated her power, well, she kind of did, it's just that it got tiring to hear other peoples' thoughts all the time. It was very loud, and sometimes she had a hard time keeping track of things she'd heard and things she wasn't ever supposed to. Especially when those things were about herself.

Quinn swallowed another mouthful. "I dunno. I guess if I had one, I'd probably find it annoying, but right now, I think it'd be pretty cool."

"It _is _really cool," Brittany nodded vehemently.

"Britt, just the other day you were saying how you were upset no one could pay attention to your dancing anymore." Santana drawled.

"Oh yeah." Brittany's eyes cast downward and Santana internally punched herself in the face.

She was distracted however, by the sound of both Quinn's and Rachel's forks clattering to their plates. Both girls had frozen and turned beet red, eyes wide.

"I'm-I'm sorry, I—" Rachel began.

"No-no, it's—it was my fault," Quinn's words stumbled out.

"Was Quinn trying to play footsie?" A mischievous grin split across Brittany's face as she watched the girls' awkward sexual tension building before her.

"No!" Quinn almost leapt out of her seat with her violent response. "I—no! I would never! I-"

"Don't yell at her." Santana's voice was dangerously low.

"Shhh, Quinn," Brittany said, winking. "It can be a secret."

Quinn's head bounced back and forth between the two as if they were a tennis match. "No! It's—I'm not—it's not-" Suddenly though, Quinn grasped her neck, her eyes bulging.

"Quinn?" Rachel stood quickly, rushing around to the other side of the table. "Quinn, are you alright?"

Quinn frantically indicated her throat as her face turned ever-redder.

"Quick!" Rachel turned to the two other girls. "Do either of you know the Heimlich?"

They both shook their heads worriedly, watching as Quinn futilely gasped for air.

"San-Santana! Call 911! Brittany, help me get her standing! You are _not _going to die, Quinn Fabray!"

Santana whipped out her cell phone and began dialing as Brittany rushed to Rachel's aide.

"911, what's the emergency?"

"MY FRIEND IS CHOKING I NEED TO KNOW HOW TO DO THE HEIMLICH," Santana scream-sobbed into her phone's tiny microphone; her composure had quickly fallen into a teary, panic-stricken mess as it often did when she got emotional.

"Alright, Miss, it's important to stay calm, I-"

"DID YOU HEAR ME? I SAID-"

"Okay, okay! Get behind the choking person!" The dispatcher cried, his voice crackly on the speaker phone.

Brittany positioned herself behind her patient as Rachel stroked the back of Quinn's hand soothingly. Santana trembled, her phone in one palm as she clutched her forehead, crying.

"Okay, now?" Brittany called.

"Wrap your arms around their waist, and grip your fists. You will have to thrust upward in quick sudden motions, do you understand?"

"Got it!" Brittany began to thrust her fists into Quinn's abdomen.

"She's choking harder!" Santana cried.

"It will look like that, yes! But it's—as long as you're doing it right, it should be fine!" The dispatcher's voice began to turn shrill.

At this point, all the girls were crying. Quinn on account of the fact that she was choking, but the other girls were experiencing genuine tears.

After about 3 pumps, Rachel saw Quinn's eyes slide back and her head lolled forward limply. She screamed and grabbed Quinn's face, turning it upward. It didn't look good.

"Brittany, stop, wait!" Rachel cried.

Brittany halted the maneuver, but continued to hold up her patient, who had become a deadweight in her arms.

"No no no no no no no," Rachel muttered, lightly smacking Quinn's cheek. "Oh God. Oh God, I killed Quinn Fabray. My salad killed her, she's dead, I'm a murderer, I-" she stopped suddenly, her head whipping around to Quinn's mostly eaten salad. She spun her body around, lifted the plate from the table, and threw it violently against the wall where it shattered, causing Santana and Brittany to jump in shock.

The room was silent. Then,

"If you just give me an address, I'll dispatch an ambulance to your location."

* * *

><p>Quinn awoke with a gasp that felt like her first breath. Of three things she was immediately aware. She was blind, she was naked, and she was cold. She sat up slowly, propping herself on her elbows. Her heart beat quickened as she felt an object moving over her face. She quickly swiped at it, realizing it was just a sheet.<p>

She sat up fully and squinted in the dim light. When her eyes adjusted, she felt her blood run cold.

Quinn Fabray was in a morgue.

Swallowing her scream of terror, she clutched the thin sheet over her exposed body and lowered herself to the floor. Careful not to look at or touch anything, she tip-toed to the door and stole away.

As Quinn padded down the empty hospital hallway, the sheet wrapped around her like a towel, memories began flooding back to her. She remembered being at Rachel Berry's house, eating salad...Santana and Brittany had been there...then she stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated the impossible. She had suffocated. She'd been flustered after her foot bumped Rachel's, and she was yelling, and a piece of carrot had slid down her throat, choking her.

She clutched her neck and grimaced as she recalled the panic and pain of the memory, but blushed slightly as she recalled Rachel's actions.

Deciding that priority number wah was to get out of this hospital and get some damn clothes on, she marched purposefully towards the elevator and stabbed the up button. She shivered as she waited in the flickering, eerie fluorescents of the hall.

Sighing heavily with relief that the elevator was empty when it reached her, she stepped inside, briefly contemplated a floor, and punched the "2" button (it had a star beside it) and rode upwards.

* * *

><p>In the hectic lobby of the hospital, Quinn found it disturbingly easy to just...walk out. Upon exiting however, she wasn't sure where to go. She had no money, no cell phone, and was pretty much butt-naked. She pushed her upper lip out and blew her bangs out of her eyes as she hurried down the sidewalk, stepping gingerly and keeping an eye out for rocks or broken glass.<p>

Quinn was simultaneously thankful and annoyed that Rachel's house was the closest to the hospital. She was wearing a sheet for christ's sakes. But beggars can't be choosers. She steeled herself and rang the doorbell.

A very confused looking Jewish man answered the door, and Quinn blushed deeply. She hadn't even contemplated the fact that someone other than Rachel might answer the door, though she realized how likely it actually was and cursed herself silently for overlooking this.

"Can I...help you?" The man studied her attire with a worried expression on his face. "Is someone bothering you?"

"Uh...no! Nothing like that, I...it's a long story. I'm a...friend of Rachel's," Quinn mumbled.

"Rachel's not feeling well today but...I'm sure she'd let you borrow some clothes at least," he rubbed the back of his neck ruefully as he stepped aside to let her in. "I'm Hiram, by the way."

"Quinn Fabray," she automatically held out her hand, and the sheet slipped. She yelped and scrambled to catch it as Hiram frantically covered his eyes.

Quinn cleared her throat. "Sorry about that."

Hiram huffed. "That's okay. Quinn, you say? Now why does that sound familiar..." he scratched his head. It was almost comical, if Quinn hadn't been so stressed out.

"I'm sure Rachel's mentioned me," she said hurriedly. "Um, which way is her-"

"Upstairs, first door on the left." Hiram waved his hand lazily at the staircase as he headed off for the kitchen.

"Th-thank you! And um, sorry again about the um-"

"Wardrobe malfunction? Don't worry about it." He waved her on without turning around.

Quinn wondered if she'd ever stop blushing today.

* * *

><p>Quinn could hear Rachel's room before she could see it. Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" appeared to be blasting on repeat and a loud, teary, yet still in tune rendition was being sung along in what was unmistakably Rachel's voice.<p>

Quinn smiled despite herself and knocked gingerly on the door.

The music stopped. "Go away," Rachel sniffed.

Quinn pushed the door gently open. "I'm, um, sorry to bother you but I uh-" she faltered at the expression on Rachel's face as her eyes fell upon her. "I need to borrow some clothes..."

Rachel stared rudely, dumbstruck. Partially because the prettiest-girl-she'd-ever-met was now standing in her bedroom door wearing nothing but a thin white sheet, but mostly because she thought the prettiest-girl-she'd-ever-met was dead.

"You're dead?" Rachel found her voice.

"I...I think I found my power." Quinn shrugged apologetically.

Silence.

"Yay?" Quinn twirled her index fingers lamely, yet again forgetting to hold the sheet around her.

Rachel's eyes widened to saucers as the sheet hit the floor. Scarlet shot up Quinn's neck and a lump rose in her throat.

"I..." Rachel moaned quietly.

Quinn squeaked and bent down to pick the sheet up, wrapping it around herself once more, and pushing the door closed behind her in one smooth motion.

"Where do you keep your underwear?" Quinn spluttered before she realized how bad it sounded.

"D-dresser..." Rachel replied dreamily, eyes still fixed to the place where Quinn's body had been revealed to her.

Quinn stomped to the dresser and began to pull clothes out willy-nilly. When she figured she had a complete outfit, she slammed the drawers closed, chanced a glance at Rachel, who's eyes were still transfixed on the doorway, and dropped the sheet to quickly change.

She looked down at her ensemble, registered it was kind of a hot mess, before striding quickly out of Rachel's room.

"Thanks for the clothes Rachel, I'll wash them and bring them back soon," she rushed out as she departed.

A full five minutes after Quinn had left, Rachel finally spoke. "Okay..."

That night, Rachel slept wrapped in the sheet Quinn had left at the foot of her dresser.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey all! I hope you all didn't suffer from too much secondhand embarrassment on account **

**of our silly awkward favorites, Quinn and Rachel. This chapter is so cracky it almost hurts. This **

**fic is my first time writing something like this, so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I **

**did writing it.**

Also, I don't know how most of you feel about my cheeky 4th wall breaking references buuuuut

**they're there so. Oh, and I don't really write smut as of yet soooo deal with it.  
><strong>

**Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reviews only guilt me into writing more for you, so they are **

**heavily encouraged. See you next time!**


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